Blacktail Deer Plateau the devil's bleeding crude oil from a hole in his chest

For a moment, Mordecai found himself drawing up the memory of the meeting. Though it hadn't been that long ago, he had shoved the event aside for one reason or another. If anything, the memory of it stirred the unease in him and he found himself faltering, but unable to answer with but the truth.

"I think everyone's just uneasy. I mean, with the fire and now with this... unrest with the Caldera," and this time, he faltered mid-sentence; even he could not betray that he was not at all fond of what had transpired. But that was hardly Dante's fault — his concern had started with Lasher's request. "I'm sorry, I just don't know any of those wolves well enough to pass judgment. I actually was seeking you out to discuss another matter." But that matter did not come to light just yet, but he let the weight of it settle before continuing on.

"Perhaps some history would be beneficial to us all. I don't think they, or even myself, understand what's happened." Sure, someone who had once been apart of the Plateau's domain found themselves dead at the hands of another pack, but... he held no love of them. They had left at some time obviously from what he had gathered and from what he had learned, few of the packs in the Wilds held such an open-door concern or policy.